Mother's Love
by Takada Saiko
Summary: Part of my series. See the note inside. Madeleine would like to take a more active step in mending a long time broken relationship with her son, but hasn't Erik had to deal with his past enough? Will he be willing to finally put it behind him and move on?
1. Default Chapter

**_Mother's Love_**

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**Chapter One**

**A/N: set after "Ghosts of the Past" and "My Darkest Hour"**

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****

"What are you so nervous about, Christine?"

The young diva in question turned to the towering performer behind her. She blushed as she realized that she'd just peeked out the curtain for the fifth time in a very few minutes. "Oh… Well, my husband's mother is supposed to be in the audience tonight…" she murmured.

"Your husband!" the woman replied, painted lips stretching into an odd smile. "So you say, yet no one has ever met him."

"He's shy," Christine whispered as she turned away. What else was she to say? Yes, my husband is the Phantom of the Opera and though the law is no longer after him it would not stop an angry mob from flying down to the depths and destroying their home once again. Oh how that might work! Or not… Perhaps she best be silent.

The elder woman laughed and the smile broadened. "You take offence too easy," she said with a shrug of her strange shoulders.

Christine could find no words to respond with, so she did not. Instead she turned her attention back to the audience as best she could. She could see Raoul in his box. He came often enough to see she and Meg perform, though she would wager that he came more for Meg these days. Erik would, more than likely, be lurking in the shadows somewhere or even behind a false wall, waiting for a time to start up to his infamous box five for the best seat in the house.

"Who are you looking for?" an angelic voice murmured behind her.

Christine spun with a slight gasp and found herself in the strong arms of her husband. She sighed and fell into them, her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped up around his neck, causing her to stand on her toes to reach. He picked her up and their lips met briefly until the sounds of backstage made them part.

"I was looking for your mother," Christine answered his earlier question. "Though in all honesty I'd much rather find you."

A smile perked the visible edges of his mouth and he placed a kiss on her forehead, careful of any makeup she wore. "You'll do wonderfully tonight."

"With you watching me, I should," she answered. "And my, haven't you grown daring, hmm?"

"What do you mean?"

"Coming back here and sweeping me off my feet. Someone might notice."

"Are you ashamed?"

His hurt tone caught her off her guard. "I was only teasing, Erik," she mumbled, tracing one thin finger across his left cheek. "I would never-"

Erik caught her hand up and pressed his lips against her palm. "I understand, my dear," he assured her. "I'm just…"

Christine smiled warmly at him. "Madeleine is trying to show that she is, in fact, trying. By being here, I mean. You know that, love."

"Yes yes," the Phantom grumbled with a wave of his gloved hand. "Perhaps she might show it in another way. Outside our lives, yes?"

"Erik!" Christine found herself hissing, then hushed her voice so that she would not bring attention to them. "Please! She's trying the best she can."

"I know," her husband relented.

"Might I have a promise from you that you'll do the same. Especially when she asks us something at dinner this evening?"

Erik's mismatched eyes narrowed a fraction. "And what, prey tell, might she be asking?"

A grin lit the diva's face. "And I thought the Phantom of the Opera knew all! How easily I am fooled!" She glanced at the others that were beginning to move towards the stage. "I really should be going."

"Then you won't tell me?"

"I can't. I promised. Madeleine will tell you this evening. Go enjoy the opera, Erik." With that she stood on her toes and stretched upward to give him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing towards the stage.

Erik watched her go for a moment and with a swirl of his cape, he was gone.

* * *

The standing ovation lasted longer than usual and Christine felt herself blush as the roses and flowers were tossed to the stage, everyone clapping and cheering. She made a quick bow out and hurried off towards her dressing room.

"Christine?"

The brunette woman turned to see Meg smiling, a large bouquet of white and pink roses in her arms. Raoul_had _been there!"You sang lovely tonight!"

The diva blushed. "Thank you. I'm terribly sorry, Meg, but-"

The blond smiled. "Of course Erik is waiting for you."

Christine nodded and dashed the rest of the way through the crowd. She smiled and avoided admirer as best as she could, mumbling, "thank you very much, but I'm married," more times than she could remember. Finally she made it to her door and pushed it open. The huge, wooden door swung open and she slipped inside, forcing it closed behind her. "Erik?" she called quietly a she turned. "Erik? Where are you?"

The room was dark and it sent a shiver up her spine. Servants always came in to light candles before the divas arrived in their rooms, but why not tonight? Fear began to well up within her. "Erik?" she called out again, reaching for a candle.

She heard the rustle of movement behind her and swung around, letting out a quiet squeal of panic. Before her voice could reach a scream a voice hushed her. "Shhh," her angel breathed in her ear. "It's only me."

Christine let out a small cry and fell into his open arms. "Why are the lights out?" she demanded, feeling very foolish. "You frightened me!"

Even if she could not see it, she knew he was smiling as he kissed the top of her head. A frown tugged at her lips and she pulled away. "What is this all about?" she demanded shortly. "Frightening me like that."

"You've never been afraid of the dark before," her husband murmured, pulling her closer once more.

She tugged away again. "Not until you tell me what you're up to."

The Phantom sighed heavily. "Close your eyes."

"Why? I can't see as it is."

"Indulge me, Christine. Please?"

"Very well," the young woman sighed as she did as she was asked. Behind her eyelids she sensed the candles being lit around the room, though it was far slower than she would have liked. "You know that they wired this place for electrical lighting when they rebuilt it," she pointed out.

"But it was always so much more beautiful by candlelight," he answered. "You may open your eyes now."

Two dark blue orbs slipped open and Christine gasped, one hand wandering to her lips in shock. When she had returned to work at the opera, she had asked the two managers to keep any flowers she received separate from her room. Only her husband's would be accepted there with her. Now the room was filled with red roses everywhere. They filled up the dresser, the tables, on thefloor and in the chairs, the petals falling even now on the floor and giving the entire room a romantic glow along with the candlelight illuminating the darkness. "Oh Erik," she breathed as she moved to the dresser, one slim hand reaching for the single rose that lay there. A black ribbon was tied to the stem.

"Do you like it?"

Tears pricked her eyes as she turned back to him, launching herself into his embrace. "It's beautiful!" she cried.

"Then all's forgiven for the slight scare?"

"Oh yes!" his young wife exclaimed. "They're amazing, Erik! How did you get so many? At this time of the year! It must have cost a fortune…"

The Phantom shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. "As long as you like it."

"Is there a special occasion?" Christine asked suddenly. "I haven't forgotten anything, have I?"

He laughed at the innocence of her question and ducked his head in slight embarrassment. "A sentimental thing, really."

"What?"

"Two years ago… at this time…" he stumbled over his words, looking away. Though she thought she saw a tear glisten in his eye, he was still smiling. "You left with the Vicomte."

Christine's eyes went wide. "And why on earth is that to be remembered?" she demanded in horror.

"Because," he murmured, pulling her closer and kissing her curls, "you are here now. Now is what matters, is it not?"

She smiled, noting thewords that she had often spoken to him whenever he would speak fearfully about his past and he horrible things he had done. She turned tolooked up at him and he down at her. She stood on her toes to meet him in a kiss as a sharp knock came at the door and it was opened. Both of them whirled, thankful to see only Madeleine and Marie standing there. The two women looked disheveled and a bit overwhelmed and not a little embarrassed to catch them in such a moment.

"Madame Giry said…" Marie stumbled for an explanation. "She said to come here. That you two would be here… I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright," Christine assured her quickly. "Did you both enjoy the show?"

Marie smiled. "I really have no ear for that sort of thing, but I thought it was lovely at any rate. Madeleine is the one who has a musical ear… Madeleine?"

The elder woman's dark eyes were wide as she took in the site of the candles and roses. "This is amazing," she breathed. "Did everyone in the theater bring you flowers? I'm terribly sorry that we-"

"Nonsense!" Christine answered with a bright smile. "Erik arranged this."

Madeleine turned a wide-eyed look to her son who stiffened beneath her strange glance. He cleared his throat when she said nothing. "Shouldn't we be off to dinner?"

* * *

A/N: Well there's your first chapter! I had several people asking me to write with Madeleine more, so here she is. If you read my PotC fics, you will see that I love parent-child relationships, especially if it's on the mend (I've never really figured out quite why). Anywho, wouldn't that be lovely if guys really did fill our rooms with roses? I love roses (as do most girls) and while my favorite thing is to receive a single rose and not a bundle, if a guy ever did this for me I do believe I might melt, though it would depend on the guy, certainly. Let me rephrase that: if ERIK were to do this, I'd melt! Hehe….

TS


	2. ch2

**Chapter Two

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**

Dinner was on the table an hour later and Erik found himself with less appetite than usual as his mother was sitting across the table. His mismatched eyes were focused on the food that was spread across the china plate, messing it around with the fork loosely held in his left hand.

"Erik?"

The dark haired man looked up, startled. Christine was watching him closely. What had she said? Oh blast! "Excuse me?"

A smile perked his wife's lips. "I asked you how you liked it."

He blinked twice, focusing his mind on her words and bringing her small smile wider across beautiful face. He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I'm sorry my dear. It is wonderful…" He perked suddenly as an idea struck him. "Christine said earlier that you had something to discuss with us tonight."

Madeleine startled as she realized the words were directed at her. After a split moment she turned a half-accusing eye towards her daughter-in-law, receiving only an innocent look in response. "Well," she began as she set her fork down, dabbing the napkin to her lips, "I've been thinking." She watched her son's movements. He'd stopped his fiddling with the food at the sound of Christine's voice, and now with those words he lay the fork down. His eyes told her to go on, she had his attention. "If you don't wish to, I understand, of course."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Wish to do what, prey tell?"

Madeleine drew in a breath. "I would like to invite you and Christine to Boscherville."

The room was deadly silent and it had suddenly turned icy cold. Or was it unbearably warm? She couldn't tell as her son's duel-coloured gaze bore into her. She couldn't read his expression behind his half mask and she wasn't all together sure that she would have liked to.

"To… Boscherville?" he echoed, voice slightly raspy.

"Well we didn't make arrangements to stay in Paris long this time," Madeleine began to stumble over an explanation. "We simply can't stay… But to have you there with us…" She turned away, unable to take her son's cold eyes any longer. "I understand if you'd rather not, but it would be lovely to have you."

Erik stood stiffly, his chair scooting back with a horrible sound against the floor. He gathered his plate –still with nearly as much food as he had begun with – and his wine glass. Christine followed him hurriedly into the kitchen and watched him pouring more wine into the tall crystal glass. What he wouldn't have given at that moment to restart his morphine addiction...

She frowned and placed a quiet hand against his arm.

"You could have warned me," he murmured, sipping at his wine. It was one of the very few times he wished that he did not have such a blasted high tolerance for alcohol…

"I'm sorry, Erik. She wanted me to keep it a secret." Christine clung to his arm, burring her face in the sleeve of his shirt. He felt warm tears soaking through. "I didn't think, Erik."

He sighed and pulled her against him, his arms wrapped around her tightly. "Would you like to go?"

Christine turned a set of tear filled blue eyes up to him. "Don't ask me that, Erik… It's not me that it might hurt."

"So caring," whispered and kissed the tip of her nose. "Ghosts must be put to rest at sometime."

A fearful expression crossed her features and she clung harder. "You said that about the circus and look where it got us!" she sobbed and felt his arms tighten around her slim frame. He was always protective of her, even if it were from her fears for him.

"That was different. She was after blood."

"And our sanity, I'm sure," Christine sniffled. "I can't… You shouldn't have to live through it twice."

Erik took a deep breath, calming his raging emotions. "Unless you should say that you simply have no time or no desire," he said slowly, watching her every reaction to his words, "I think that we should make a holiday of it. You'll find I take few."

His wife giggled at this. "I've hardly been back three months to the theater! What should I tell them? 'My husband decided to whisk me away once more'?"

He smiled at her. "Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin may just receive a note on their desk tops in the morning."

"Oh, Erik!"

He held up a finger to her lips, silencing her with the playful gesture. "Saying that their favorite diva will be out just a bit more time. How shall they complain? The current opera came to a close tonight and the next auditions won't be for another week to so. Perhaps more, if asked nicely." A smirk appeared from behind his mask.

Christine laughed at this, reaching up to kiss his unmasked cheek. "I love you."

* * *

"I fear I've made a mess of things," Madeleine murmured.

"Nonsense! Christine will help him work it out," Marie argued gently. She glanced back towards the kitchen. "That girl… She's just what he's always needed, don't you think?"

"I wish she'd been there all along," his mother sighed.

"Everything happens for a purpose, Madeline."

The two women looked back as they heard the sound of the couple exiting the kitchen. Erik had one arm draped over his wife's shoulders, pulling her close to his body and she held onto the tips of his long fingers with one hand, her other arm snaking around his back and clutching onto his other arm as best as she could. She smiled widely at their guests."When would you have us?"

* * *

"Boscherville?" Meg echoed, watching Christine fold a simple dress into a bag.

"It's where Erik was born," the elder woman said as if it were all the explanation needed.

"Yes, well, that's nice and all," Meg mumbled, "but what does that have to do with you picking up and going for… How long did you say?"

"A week, more than likely. Give or take a few days. It's a chance for Madeleine to try and mend her relationship with Erik."

"I wouldn't have seen him as one to throw himself head long into his past," the blond mused.

"He's not." Christine sighed heavily and took a seat on the bed she shared with Erik, her eyes distant and pained. "Erik's been through so much in his life and it seems that it's been tossed into his face so recently. The shah, the Gypsies…" She shuddered and wrapped her small arms around herself. "He doesn't deserve that. Anything he owed for the… for what he's done, he's long since paid in the suffering."

Meg reached a comforting hand to her best friend. "Maybe this really is a way to lay what's hurt him for so long to rest, hmm? If nothing else, he knows you will be right there with him."

"What good will that do against raging nightmares?"

The ballerina smiled sadly. "More than you know."

* * *

AliciaRoseM: Thanks so much!

LostSchizophrenic: I'm glad I could give you a pick-me-up! I hope your siblings don't cause you too much trouble. Be thankful for them, even if they do run amuck. It gets lonely when no one else is around :p

All Apologies: Your update is here!

Lizzie Black: I know! I got jealous writing it! (how sad does that make my life, eh?) I dated a guy once that the first flower he gave me was a single red rose and I fell head over heels (other reasons too, but that was a tradition he kept up until we broke up) It was lovely. I hope my husband does this someday for me… I have a tendency to like my most hated characters. I make them too likable b/c I just have to go and redeem them. Lol! Oh well… Good 'ol Madeleine. Without her there would be no Erik.

Clever Lass: Yes yes! It's my new story that I'm working on! I try to post a note if I put out oneshots.

FreakinIdiot06: Haha:p Don't we all?

Erik's Musical Angel: Yes, I know. That's why I like having Madeleine in here. She could be such a good character if people would give her a chance and let their muses run. Such lovely angst between her and Erik! Yes, the roses! I'm so glad everyone loved that as much as I did! A bunch of helpless, hopeless romantics the lot of us, right? Hehe…

TS


	3. ch3

**Chapter Three

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**

Christine had curled up at his side when they had first entered the carriage. Her head rested gently against his shoulder, her brunette curls tickling his face and he put a protective arm around her as they hit a bump in the road.

Erik did not sleep through the trip. How could he? His mind wondered of its own accord through the first nine years of his life.

_"Freak of nature…"_

"…_an asylum…._

He shuddered. No, the horrible Doctor Etienne Barye would not be there, thankfully. He'd long since left for… Paris, wasn't it? It was a wonder that he hadn't met the doctor there, with his luck as it was.

"Erik?" Christine mumbled against his dress coat. She turned tired blue eyes up to him. "Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Didn't you hear Madeleine?" He shook his head and she gave him a patient smile. "She says that we're nearing."

Erik nodded and his wife knew that she saw his jaw clench in apprehension. She moved her hand from his upper arm to his hand, gently brushing against his arm on the way down. He squeezed her hand in his own and they exchanged silent words.

The house was just as he remembered it, as was the town itself. Everything was deceptively inviting to the casually wandering eye, but not to Erik. Erik knew what lay behind that pleasant door and the ivy covered walls. Hell. No, it did not burn physically, but if there was ever hell on earth, that is where it began. The flames simply spread from that one house. Spread outward to engulf sections of the world in its torment, but no one knew its origin.

"Erik?"

Christine looked worried as the Phantom turned to her. Her eyes were wide with anxiousness and she gripped his sleeve a bit too tightly. "I'm alright, my dear," he murmured.

"Would you tell me if it were any other way?"

He said nothing as he smiled, reached forward, and kissed her perfect little forehead. As he pulled away, her bag that she had been caring lurched to one side, casing the exiting occupants of the cart to jump. Christine reached in with frightened eyes to pull forth an irritated looking Ayesha. "Stow away," she muttered.

Erik's face lit, if only for a moment. "My dear!" he addressed the cat, taking the purring feline into his arms and caressing her gently. Ayesha's pur grew louder and she snuggled up next to him.

Marie laughed. "I see she would not be left behind!"

"You must understand," Christine said with a bright smile, "that Ayesha does believe she is human."

They laughed as hey moved forward to the house and the women inside. Erik paused at the door. Ayesha let forth a loud "meow" and hopped from his arms, moving forward to Christine. If her master was going to stop petting her, it was time for her new mistress to begin. She would get the girl trained in the way it was supposed to be yet!

Christine scooped the Siamese up from the floor and turned to her husband. "Erik? Are you well?"

He'd turned ghostly pale in he doorway, leaning heavily against it. His mismatched eyes watched everything. "I've never seen this place…from this point of view before," he murmured.

"Coming inside?"

"Yes… The only time I left as a child would be when I would sneak out from my window upstairs. I never used the front door. It's… bizarre."

"It's nothing of the sort," Madeleine said stiffly, moving further in. "Just different. Come in now, Erik." She did not note the way he stiffened even more at the sound of her voice or the way that it seemed to fall right back into that cruel and cold tone that she had used for so many years with him. This house... He shuddered.

Erik's eyes met his wife's and she urged him on with a gentle smile. He felt as if he might fall into the room instead of stepping, but he manage to keep his usual grace about him as the room spun dangerously and memories bombarded relentlessly against his now aching head. He heard Christine ask where they might put their bags and Madeleine offered Erik's old room. _Not that, please… _

Her hand grasped his and he was dazed until they reached the attic bedroom where he slumped down against the old, hardly used bed. He was shaking horribly by this time, eyes wide with horror and Christine kissed him over and over until his shaking subsided some. "We can go anytime you wish to, my love," she whispered into his ear, stroking his hair from his face.

"Anytime?" His voice was barely a whisper as he stared at her, eyes wide behind his mask.

"Anytime," she assured him.

He nodded, his eyes lulling shut in her embrace. "I'm sorry, Christine," he murmured. "I don't know what's come over me."

Christine couldn't find the words to answer him, so she held him close. He fell into her embrace and she kissed his cheek. "Never once in this house," he murmured quietly.

"Shhh," she hushed and kissed him again. "I told you once and I'll say it again. You may have a kiss from me any time you wish, my love."

* * *

LostS: I want siblings so badly sometimes… best to live vicariously through friends, I suppose. Lol! Sorry for the end-of-the-day update. 


	4. ch4

**Chapter Four

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**

"Where did you ever come across this house?" Christine asked as she sipped her tea. She glanced at her husband, watching for any signs of needing to change the subject and when he gave none, she turned back to Madeleine.

The elder woman's smile was sad at this. "Charles – my husband – and I came here to visit Marie and I saw this old place. I fell in love with it. It had a… romantic look to it and I couldn't resist it. In turn, Charles couldn't resist anything to please me. He spoiled me terribly."

"It's beautiful," Christine said sincerely.

"Nonsense," Madeleine answered almost snappishly. "It's grown up and over long since and would be hardly worth a cent if I were to have to sell it."

Christine blinked in surprise at the grey haired woman's outburst of irritation. Silence poured out around them and the only audible sound was the clinking of china cups on the saucers. Finally the young soprano looked up to her husband at her side. "Will you show me the church later on? You told me once that it had a beautiful pipe organ."

"I don't believe that would be wise," Madeleine responded for her son.

Erik clenched one fist against his knee where it rested. "If she wishes to see it I have nothing I'd rather do than show it to her," he all but growled.

His mother's face turned dark with irritation. "At midnight?" she asked sarcastically.

"Why should we be contained in this house? I am no child anymore, Mother." His voice was cold and he stood slowly as he spoke, causing Christine to grab hastily for his hand, clinging to it. She didn't know what he was doing. If he meant to move closer to Madeleine, she wished to pull him back, but if he meant to leave, she wished to be there with him. Either way, she wanted her hand in his when his next action took place.

Madeleine straitened her shoulders, ignoring a soft protest from Marie at her side. "You are under by roof, Erik, need I remind you?"

"And you invited us here of your own accord!"

"The boys have grown to men, Erik, and they remember perfectly well. Do not be a complete fool."

The Phantom tensed at her words and his glare became nearly unbearable. "I do believe we're done here," he growled and started for the stairs. Christine followed him without a word, her hand still gripping his.

* * *

"How dare she?" Erik spat as he stormed the small attic room. His eyes seemed to glow in the dimming light.

"I'm sorry," his wife murmured. "I shouldn't have asked…"

"No, please do! I will show you the pipe organs, be it in the dead of night or under the burning sun! I will not hide for _her _sake."

Christine studied the floor for a moment before turning her eyes up to him again. "What boys?"

He stopped, eyes questioning.

"Your mother said, 'the boys have grown to men.' What did she mean?"

Erik sighed, sitting heavily on the bed. Christine moved to sit with him, her small hand against his arm. "We had a dog, Sasha, and some boys were after her." His voice was low and sad as he spoke, eyes never meeting his wife's. "I went out to take her back inside… away from them. The scar here-" his fingers barely met his shirt that covered the long scar along his rib cage that Christine had seen before – "a knife wound."

Tears welled in the young woman's eyes and she clung to her husband as if he might disappear before her eyes. "Perhaps we should not…"

"I'm weary of hiding," he murmured into her thick curls, kissing her head. "I cannot bare to keep you in darkness forever."

Christine shook her head widely, eyes frantic. The strong woman that she had become the last few months seemed to melt suddenly into the frightened and wandering child, longing for guidance, that Erik had first met from his place behind her mirror. "If you are there it's alright. As long as you are there. If I were to ever loose you the darkness would not be beautiful. It would be cold… Unfeeling..."

He watched her as she clung once again to him, tears streaming silently down her face. "Perhaps tonight, before we leave?"

"You wish to wait that long?"

"No," he admitted. "But if we left now we would be seen there."

A knock at the door cut Christine's next words off and they looked to see Marie peeking in. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just wanted to make sure…. I wanted to know… I'm sorry."

A smile tugged at Erik's lips, despite the circumstances. "It's alright."

"No," she murmured, shaking her head. "She has no right to keep you locked away as she did so many years ago. She has no right. I thought she was going to be different… When she saw you in the de Chagny house, it was."

"It was not this place."

"That's true, but that does not give her any excuse."

"I wasn't giving her one."

It was Marie's turn to smile a little. "Will you both leave?"

"What choice do I have?" Erik muttered. "I will not be a slave in this house. Of her. I will not be made the fool again."

Tears brimmed Marie's eyes. "Might I beg you to sit with her a bit longer, Erik?"

"A moment ago you were telling me how you saw what her actions were!"

"I do see!" she whimpered, frightened by the low tone of his voice. "It's just… You didn't see her all those years, Erik. After you left, all she could speak of was you. She'd go to your room for hours and I'd find her with a piece of mirror in her hand or your old violin. She'd sit at the piano until I nearly drug her away from it. She'd stare at your compositions, Erik, did you know that?"

"Why would she?" the Phantom spat.

"Madeleine was a child then too. She was only seventeen when you were born, did you know? She's grown up, but… She's still Madeleine and she will have to work through what she learned. She didn't realize what she'd done."

Erik's eyes burned with anger. "How could she not?"

"People are blind to what they don't want to see! Erik, dear… Go speak with her? If it does not turn out well, I will let the two of you return without another word."

The Phantom frowned deeply, eyes studying the crying woman before him. "Very well," he muttered. "It would be a waste if we were here a day, would it not?"

Christine stood from her place, eyes locking with her husband's. "Do you wish me to come?"

"This… is something I need to do myself," Erik murmured. He watched as her eyes dropped to the floor and her shoulders sagged. Did she long to be by his side so much? He smiled a bit and tipped her chin up with his finger, causing her to look at him. "But… to have you here when I return would be more than I dare to ask."

A smile brightened her face. "You wouldn't need to ask," she assured him. "I'll be right here waiting for you."

He nodded, turned, and left the two woman standing alone in the room.

* * *

LostS: Privacy… Hmm… I've been rather spoiled with it. I suppose God knew what He was doing when He didn't give me any siblings lol! (even though sometimes I still wish I had one) I have a fit when anyone invades my VERY large space bubble hehe.

Eleanor J: I like Ayesha:) My cat's nearly as spoiled as her, but not nearly as nice! My poor kitty doesn't like anyone unless she so feels inclined. Lol.

Lizzie Black: Thanks muchly

FreakinIdiot06: Yeah, poor Erik. It's okay, you're late on reviewing, I'm late on updating… it all works out.

Lynx Ryder: My cat thinks she's a dog… She growls at people. It's really funny! Haha! Glad you enjoyed the chapter! Phan girls seem to like angst more than even the average fanfiction reader… :grins: I fit in with this fandom! Yay!

AliciaRoseM: Thank you:blushes:


	5. ch5

**Chapter Five

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**

She was crying when he reached the main room, surrounded by a cold emptiness that seemed to envelope her and her shoulders shook. Madeleine looked up as her son walked in, eyes brimming with tears. "Erik…"

He straitened his back and squared his shoulders, eyes nearly glowing with irritation at the thought of coming back to this room, standing before his mother. Like so many other times. _No, _he reminded himself. _It's all different now._

"Marie asked me to come here." Stupid! He'd come of his own accord, hadn't he? He was not here for Marie, he was not here for Madeleine, he was not… Who was he here for? Damn her!

Madeleine sniffed prettily. "Thank you," she murmured, standing very slowly. "I've been perfectly horrible, Erik. Old habits, yes? No… Habits can be broken and will be. Please sit."

"I'd much rather stand."

She nodded. "I'd like to ask you to stay with us. Give me time, Erik. Go to the church if you wish to. Do anything you wish and pay my old ways no heed. I'm quite the fool, you know, for all my learning." She laughed a little at this.

He stared at her a moment, eyes never wavering. "Very well then," he murmured and was gone in an instant, leaving her to her quiet, tear-streaked self.

* * *

Christine had expected to hear screaming. Erik's voice, even when he did not mean to raise it, often found a way to be carried to every part of the area he was in, especially when he was angry. No raised voices came, only quiet murmurings from the other room and Marie bowed out quietly when the Phantom appeared in the doorway to the attic.

"It went well enough," he answered her unasked question. "We will stay a bit."

"Is that alright?"

"Would I have agreed if it were not?" His stern expression softened when he saw her flinch at his cold words and he reached a hand out. A hand she eagerly took and he pulled her into his embrace.

"So will I see the church tonight?"

"By night?"

"I want to see it by the moonlight. With the moon streaming through the glass! A very romantic scene, wouldn't you say?"

Erik raised an eyebrow. "If you say…"

Christine giggled at this, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Erik."

His smile reached his eyes as he scooped her up, kissing her. The kisses traveled down her neck and to her collarbone, telling her of his love more than any words could express. His lips moved to her shoulder and she felt her eyes lull. "Should we be doing this now?" she murmured, trying to grasp onto the last bit of realization she had of the outside world.

"Past the point of right or wrong," he whispered breathlessly, guiding her towards the bed and they fell against it.

* * *

The moonlight streamed in just as Christine had hoped it would, casting eerie shadows against the ancient walls of the beautiful church, the half-lit candles shedding soft light against their faces as the moved along the otherwise dark corridor to the main room of the church.

"I used to sneak out as a child," Erik was saying as his eyes ran along the room. "I'd come to play the pipe organ." The mismatched eyes landed on the said instrument. "A ghost haunted this place."

Christine giggled at his words. "A ghost haunting a church! Surely people wouldn't believe that!"

"People believe anything that is spread," he murmured quietly.

Christine saw the sadness in his eyes and touched his arm lovingly. "Won't you play something for me, Erik?"

"People will hear!"

"Well then, a ghost has come," she answered with a laugh and tugged him toward the organ.

Erik's song echoed through the room of the old Catholic church, the notes ricocheting off the walls and his eyes closed with his fingers waltzing over the keys. Christine felt herself slipping into the music and her voice drifted along with his music. She'd begun to loose herself in it all when it stopped abruptly. "Footsteps," he murmured, pulling her into the shadows of the church. She melted against him, feeling his strong arms around her.

A young priest appeared, eyes wide with confusion, calling out for whomever it was to come forth. When no one did, he turned and left quickly, shaking his head the whole way.

* * *

"Did you see his face?" Christine laughed as they stepped out into the snow. "Poor man! I feel as if we must have sinned by frightening him!"

Erik shrugged his broad shoulder. "If it is then it is. Was it worth seeing the church?"

"Very much so!"

"What next?"

Christine turned her eyes down to her snow-covered boots, a small blush creeping to her cheeks. "This may sound odd… but could we go to the graveyard?" She saw her husband raise an eyebrow in confusion or amusement or both and she rushed to explain. "I wanted to… see your father's grave. I never met him, but I'm sure I would have wanted to. He's buried here, isn't he?"

"I don't know," Erik responded quietly. "I never looked. Mother never said."

"Would it be too terrible to look?"

"Feel free."

Christine watched his expression, wary of any signs that he was uncomfortable with their next location. In their short trek to the small graveyard she saw none and she began her search. Suddenly realization dawned on her. "Erik? What is your last name?"

The Phantom seemed to stiffen a little at the innocent question. "I… don't really know."

"You never asked?"

"Who would think to?"

She nodded, seeing the logic in the retort and moved onto the next tomb. Erik had once told her that his father had died the same year of his birth: 1831. That and his first name were really all she had to go on, but how many men died in 1831 with the first name of Charles in this tiny town? Hopefully only one. Her eyes finally rested on what she'd been searching for. "Erik! I found it!" she called.

Her husband moved with no great haste to her spot and looked at the tomb she'd been pointing at. "The last name is worn out," he muttered, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Perhaps it's only the ice," Christine tried to encourage, reaching one gloved hand out to the stone and rubbed at it.

Erik caught up her small hand and shook his head. "No my dear. Some things are simply not meant to be."

She nodded turned her gaze back to the stone. "I'm sure he would have been good to you, Erik. Things would have been different. He would have loved you so much."

"No," he answered curtly. "He would have hated me just as she did. But what does that matter? He's dead now."

He'd expected to see a horrified expression cross her face at those last words, but only sadness rested there, turning her beautiful mouth into a slight frown. It was only then when he realized that she shivered with the cold and he shrugged off his cape, wrapping it tightly around her. "You'll catch your death, my dear."

"Do you not remember what happened the last _time_ you gave me your cloak?" she teased.

"Very well indeed," he answered with a smile. "Come now, love. The sun will be up soon and we shouldn't be found away from the house."

* * *

"It was the strangest thing, I tell you!" Marie said as she set her teacup down. Her eyes traveled from Madeleine, to Erik, and finally to Christine.

"Well get on with it!" Madeleine snapped impatiently.

"I was talking to our young priest and he said he heard the oddest thing in the sanctuary last night. He heard the organ playing-" she turned her eyes to Erik, though not accusingly – "and so he went to see what it was. On his way there, he said he was sure that he heard – and he said that there was no doubt in his mind of what it was – an angel singing Bach."

Christine seemed to choke on her tea and Ayesha – who'd been sleeping in her lap – looked up to her with questioning eyes. She soothed the cat by stroking one thin hand down her long back. "Angels sing Bach?"

"Apparently," the aging woman said. " Strange, don't you think?" A smile perked her lips.

"Perfectly unbelievable," Erik responded and took another sip of his tea.

* * *

A/N: I combined a oneshot I did into this story. I did the oneshot and decided to expand off of it, and this is what came about, so if it look familiar, that's why! Lol.

LostS: I do so love the interaction between Madeleine and Erik! It's fun to write! Gives me a stress relief from the end of school. Senioritis is horrible!

Angel of Misery: I guess I'm very blessed to get along with both my folks (most of the time hehe…) I hope Erik can work it out too, but ya know there's going to be chaos until then lol!

Lynx Ryder: Yeah, I wouldn't go back either. I'd be like "no way, deal with your own guilt. You deserve every minute!" Lol… but oh well… Erik's got Christine there with him and he can live through anything:is in an overly-gushy-romantic mood:

Jo: Yupyup. They're much fun to write.


	6. ch6

**Chapter Six

* * *

**

The next two days went without event. Madeleine, while slightly cold at times, often melted into a motherly role whether meaning to or not. Erik, on the other hand, continued on with his stiff, nonchalant attitude that kept Marie and Christine guessing.

It was the early part of the morning on the morning that everything fell apart on. Christine stirred awake, shifting closer to her husband in the small bed they shared, nestling closer to him and his arm tightened around her. "Erik?"

"Hmm?" he moaned as he pulled her closer.

"Are we getting up today?"

"No."

She smiled at this and moved so that she might look upward. His eyes were still closed and his hair messed more than it had been when they'd fallen asleep… The smile grew as she reached one slim finger up to play with a loose strand, startling him awake. "Good morning," she murmured. "You want breakfast?"

"Not really," Erik mumbled into her hair.

"Well I do. Come on, Erik," she giggled as he pulled her even closer. "Let go!" She didn't miss the small smile that touched the corners of his lips.

"Oh come now," he responded gently, mismatched eyes staring into her blue ones. "Just a few more minutes."

"You sound like a child!" Christine laughed as she kissed him lightly and scooted out of the bed, pulling the covered around her. "Even you are going to get cold there with no cover at all."

He frowned at her, though by no means menacingly, and watched her walk over to where her clothes lie. His eyes never left her as she dropped the sheet in order to dress. She turned, feeling his eyes, and a blush rose to her cheeks. "Erik!"

"What?"

Christine sighed dramatically and threw the sheet at him, slipping the simple dress over her head. Her husband laughed at her actions and stood slowly, reaching for his own clothes. "Fine fine," he grumbled good-naturedly.

A triumphant smirk crossed the young soprano's lips. "Good. Come down when your dressed and ready.

* * *

The chatter of an extra person met her ears as she descended the stairs. Christine reached the bottom and looked into the kitchen where Madeleine was bustling around the kitchen, speaking in snippets of phrases, and then finally stopped to look at her. Marie was nowhere to be seen and a man, perhaps just a little younger than Madeleine, sat in her place.

"Christine!" Madeleine gasped as if she had been caught doing something wrong. "Good morning! I… well… I…"

Christine watched her, gentle blue eyes giving nothing away of the thousands of questions scampering about inside of her mind. "Good morning, Madeleine."

The man stood, eyes warm and inviting and he bowed a little. "Good morning, Mademoiselle. Madeleine did not tell me that she had company."

"It'd been so long since you came that I… well…" Madeleine stumbled over each word, growing redder with ever attempt. "Christine, this is-"

"Etienne Barye," Erik's voice came from behind Christine. It was cold and dark, making everyone in the room shiver. Christine turned her face back to her husband and saw him standing on the last step, his head held high and his hair perfectly groomed back. No stray hairs were falling now and his mask was firmly in place, mismatched eyes burning with fury and hatred behind it. It reminded Christine of the Red Death in which he'd portrayed at the masquerade two years before and it made her reach out for his hand. He did not move for his wife, nor did he recoil when she moved towards him, but simply stared at the older man in the room.

Etienne had turned dead white when his name had left those lips. He shuddered involuntarily and then forced his composure to resume. "Erik, it's very good to see you. I heard about your… departure, and I know your mother feared you dead."

"What business was it of yours?" the Phantom's voice echoed.

Christine grabbed his hand in her own, terrified of his anger and yet knowing that his touch would make it better. "Erik…" she whimpered quietly, feeling as if she were reverting to the frightened child that she had once been. She grasped his hand with all intensity until he turned his eyes to her, a silent command to be quiet.

"None, really," Etienne responded. "Though it is still good to see you." The doctor watched Erik for a moment, and then continued. "If you're wondering, I haven't seen your mother since the day you left. I've been in Paris all this time. They're quite more open to ideas there."

"Yes, ideas," Erik hissed. "Ideas such as throwing small children into insane asylums?"

If it were possible, Etienne paled more. "I… no. No, simply medical…" He cleared his throat. "I was in the area and thought, perhaps, Madeleine might still be here." He noticed Erik's frown deepen only slightly more and he let forth a sigh. "And, perhaps, a friend in Paris said that she'd been seen and it gave me the thought."

Erik nodded. "And who am I to stand in the way? Please, continue. It was long past due that Christine and I should return home."

Christine watched him turn and leave the room with all the authority he had when his voice echoed from above in the theater, commanding this and that to be done.

"Where does he get off?" Madeleine sobbed. "Coming here… making another guest feel… It's been years!"

Christine stiffened at the aging woman's words. "Perhaps I could have forgiven the foolish idea of allowing this man into your home while Erik was here, but those words will take his forgiveness." She glanced up the stares and began to follow her husband. "And that, I can assure you, will be next to impossible to gain."

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry I'm not working quite as fast on this one. I've been swamped with things and also have started a new novel. Wish me luck!

LostS: Sorry it was late! Yes, the interaction has branched off now! I've been absolutely dying to put Etienne into the story and see how Erik might react

MigratingCoconuts 06:blinks: do coconuts migrate? Lol. Yeah, he's TRYING to give he a second chance and she keeps squandering it. :sigh: oh well…

Lynx Ryder: Yes! More angry voice! Hehe…


	7. ch7

**Chapter Seven

* * *

**

Ayesha sat passively on the bed while Erik paced up and down the length of the tiny attic room. His temper was blazing and his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, resisting the frantic urge to wreck the entire room. The cat stiffened as the door was pushed open gently and Christine slipped through it. Two golden, cat-slit eyes remained on her as she closed the door with a soft click. Erik whirled on her.

His face softened and his eyes came to rest on his wife. She reached a hand to him and he grasped it instantly, pulling her close to him and she rested her head on his chest. "I'm sorry," she murmured into his shirt, arms wrapped around his middle and holding on with such intensity that he felt as if he could not breathe. "I'm so sorry, Erik." Her voice was broken with tears that ran down her face and choked her. "I never meant… this isn't how…"

"Shh, my love," he whispered into her ear, moving a curl back behind it. "How could you have known? How could anyone have?"

"You've been through so much. Madeleine doesn't deserve you as a son." She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face and it made him long to reach out and kiss them dry. "And you… you deserve much better than life has ever dealt you."

"I have you, my angel, and that is all I could ask for." He leaned down and kissed her, feeling her fall into him.

"Erik?" she murmured breathlessly.

"Hmm?"

"What… what did he do to you, Erik?" Her voice was no more than a whisper. She did not fear his wrath. No, she was long past that. What she feared was the tortured expression that overcame him at times when he spoke of certain elements of his past.

The expression came, though in a much milder dose than usual. He sighed kissed her forehead. "He wanted… He wanted me gone, I know. If I were there, he could never marry Mother. He said… that…"

"It's alright, Erik," Christine assured him. "If it pains you…"

"No," he answered with a shake of his head, his perfectly combed hair falling into his face. "He wanted to send me away. To an asylum."

"Asylum?" his wife echoed. "For the insane?"

"Yes."

"But, Erik! You're not! You've never been…"

He gave a mirthless chuckle as he murmured, _"Down we plunge to the prison of my mind. Down this path into darkness deep as hell…"_

Christine gave a pretty pout. "That doesn't count, Erik."

"Does it not?"

She smiled up at him and kissed his lips. "No," she whispered softly.

They both stiffened at the sound of the knock at the small door. Christine smiled up at her husband and moved toward it, motioning for him to stay where he was, if he'd please. She twisted the knob and poked her head out, meeting the – seemingly – gentle eyes of Etienne Barye.

"Mademoiselle," he began, but was quickly cut off by Christine's lips turning downward in a frown and her eyes becoming icy with a coolness that she rarely had.

"I am not 'mademoiselle,' monsieur! I can assure you of that."

A blush crept to the aging man's shaven cheeks and he bowed his head in a quick apology for the mistake. "I'm terribly sorry, Madame. I didn't… I thought-"

"Whatever you thought best stay in your head," replied Erik's wife with a huff. She wondered very briefly when her tongue had become so sharp or when she had developed enough of a backbone to stand up to someone who was nearly a foot taller than she. Perhaps when she had learned what true monsters were.

Those thoughts left as the man nodded quietly. "I'm quite sorry, Madame," he murmured, seeming to try to catch a glimpse through the small crack in which Christine was peeking through. "I meant no harm by my coming here. I thought your… husband dead, as did his mother, and even if I had known he was not, what were the chances?"

"Slim enough for it to be an odd coincidence," the diva answered shortly.

"You think I meant to come here the day he did?"

Christine heard herself let loose a gust of a sigh, regretting it as she did. She did not want this man to see her falter and she would not. She straightened her shoulders – could he see that behind the door? – and continued her best scowl. "And if I did?" she demanded.

A smile spread across the doctor's face and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You're quite the little actress, Madame, as you should be with the roles you play on stage."

"Excuse me?" the young woman sputtered, unable to keep her composure with the man laughing at her.

The smile continued. "I fear that you are too sweet of a girl to have such a foul disposition, in any case of the matter. While you think you are doing well by Erik, I can assure you I have come to do him no harm. Please, Madame, if you'd let me pass?" He pushed on the door and Christine found herself falling backwards.

Erik caught her up before she had time to stumble and spun her away from Etienne, eye blazing with fury. "But you will break into the room and run over my wife, is that so?"

"I misjudged her size," the doctor mumbled, looking perfectly ashamed of his action. "I hope I did not-"

"Do shut up and leave," Erik growled, turning his back to the elder man.

Etienne frown and – not wishing to loose so easily – reached a hand out for the Phantom's shoulder. He was not prepared for the other to turn on him with such a fury as soon as his fingers touched the material of the jacket. Erik had him against the nearest wall with no warning at all, thrown up against it, eyes all but glowing with the fire that dwelt there. "What is it you come to do then, sir?" he hissed sarcastically. "Does it have something to do with one of your asylums? Or perhaps taking a child's only happiness, do you know you tried? Answer, sir! Man to man now is a bit more intimidating!"

"Erik… Please!" the doctor gasped, struggling with all of his might to break free.

"Erik!" Madeleine's frantic voice filled the room, but she did not have time to do anything but yell as her son released Etienne.

Christine hurried forward, alarmed by the sudden change in temperament. "Erik?" she whispered, half afraid to speak loudly as her husband seemed to stumble to the bed and sink down upon it. She felt panic rise within her as her hand grasped his own which was placed over his heart. His breath came in gulps and his face was as white as the sheets on which he sat.

"Of all… times…" he gasped, his teeth clenched together and his entire body shaking.

"What's going on?" Madeleine asked, her voice trembling as she approached.

Christine's eyes were wide with fright as she knelt next to him. "Erik? Is it another attack? Erik? Please look at me!"

He turned his mismatched eyes toward her and gave her a half smile. "I'll be alright, my love."

"Madame, let me take a look at him," Etienne said from behind.

"You will _not _touch me!" Erik growled with all the intensity of the Phantom of the Opera in premium health.

The doctor moved away, eyes wide as he watched the younger man loose any strength he'd mustered for the outburst and fall forward into his wife's arms, the small woman doing as best as she could to ease him back to the bed and not allow him to go tumbling to the floor. His mouth twitched into a frown and then back into a straight line as he moved slowly forward. "Madame… you must let me see to him. I swear upon anything you wish that I will not harm him."

"Stay away from him!" Christine sobbed. "If you hadn't come, this wouldn't have happened!"

"Child, you don't understand," Etienne tried to reason. "He is very ill. He must be seen by a physician!"

"I know he is very ill! He's _been_ very ill!" A sob escaped her lips and she put her hands to her face, only to let them drop to her sides and then to her husband's pale face. "He took morphine for years, are you happy now, Doctor? Is it more the reason to call him mad? To try to take away anything he loves? I won't let you touch him. I won't… I'm not strong, but maybe… this once… I can protect Erik after all the times he's been willing to protect me." Her small frame shook with sobs as she fell to the bed next to him, her long, dark curls cascading across his still body. "Please leave."

The doctor watched her reaction and nodded slowly, moving towards the door and taking Madeleine's hand as he went.

"Etienne!" she gasped.

"There's nothing we can do here. Let her be with him." At the door Ayesha hissed and spat at them, ready to defend her masters if these two decided to return. She nipped at the doctor's ankles, growling something fierce even after the door had shut.

"Christine?" Erik's weakened voice reached her ears.

"Yes, my love?"

"Dry your eyes, my dear," he whispered with a smile. "And please get Ayesha. I'm afraid she'll claw down that door."

Christine smiled as she scooped the angry cat up and held her gently. "Shh, Ayesha. See? Erik's going to be just fine and that horrible man is gone." The cat seemed to understand her and relaxed in her arms.

Erik reached a hand out. "Stay with me?"

"Of course."

* * *

Migrating Coconuts 06: I'm glad mine isn't either! Stories like these make me more thankful than ever for my parents! (not that I'm not anyway lol)

Lost S: Yay! You caught it! I was hoping someone would! Christine didn't take too well to the misunderstanding, did she? Lol

AliciaRoseM: Thanks muchly.

Jo: Thanks! I'm actually writing out lyrics as they come to me along with the novel b/c I could see it on a stage… maybe. I hope. Most of my novels I work on I can at least see on the big screen, but this one would need to be on stage. Anyway, yes, so I hear about migrating coconuts… Must find some….. :goes off in search:


	8. ch8

**Chapter Eight

* * *

**

Christine felt Erik stir next to her, causing the cat to wake at the end of the bed and hop up. Ayesha rubbed against the singer's arm, purring loudly and begging to be petted. She smiled and reached out for the cat, running a slim hand down the Siamese's back and down her tail, listening to the noise she made. "Shh," she hushed with a smile. "You'll wake Erik."

Ayesha seemed to ignore her protests and moved up to her master's sleeping form, rubbing against his exposed face, the purr increasing in volume. Erik's mismatched eyes fluttered open and he muttered a slightly irritated, "My dear!" before shifting to turn his away from her.

Christine giggled, bringing her husband to full awareness. His mind registered that they were not in their own home, for there was light pouring in through a half-open window and it certainly did not feel the same. He shuddered as memories returned and his wife took it as pain, reaching forward and grasping his arm. "Erik?"

He turned toward her and forced a smile. "I'm alright, my love," he murmured, pulling her down to meet him. "I promise."

"You frightened me this morning."

"I'm sorry."

Christine felt a smile tug at her lips as he pulled her down again and felt his lips on hers. She melted into his embrace, but soon pulled away, breathless. "Erik, you're ill."

"I told you-"

"Yes, but…" His wife looked away and then quickly back. "Please, my angel, I don't wish to see you in pain like that again. You should rest, then we'll return as quickly as we can to Paris. We… should not have come."

There was a soft knock at the door that cut Erik's response off and it opened. Marie peered in shyly. "How are you feeling, Erik dear?"

He nearly smiled at her form of address. "Much better. Thank you."

"I suppose you'll be leaving when you feel better," she said meekly, her eyes seeming to avoid his.

A gasp escaped his lips as he realized that Christine had peeled his mask off sometime while he slept and it was perfectly visible in the late afternoon light. He flailed for it, searching for any possible place it might be at the bed's side, but only found it when his wife produced it from seemingly nowhere. He slipped it on quickly.

Marie looked ashamed for a moment and then look up, eyes sparkling with tears. "I'm sorry, Erik… I thought…"

"That she'd changed?" the Phantom finished for her with a wry smile. "Perhaps she has." He let forth a long sigh and felt Christine grasp his hand. "We cannot choose where or who we love, can we?"

The aging woman watched her best friend's son carefully, not quite understanding his meaning.

He looked up, meeting her eyes with his own sharp ones. "That does not mean that I will have anything to do with either of them in this house. Surely if she ever had any compassion for me, she will understand that."

"Will you say goodbye to her?"

"Perhaps."

A smile graced the lady's lips and she moved closer, placing a kiss on a very surprised Erik's forehead. "In case we never get a chance to say good bye, Erik dear. Have a safe trip back to Paris."

"Th-thank you," he stuttered, watching her leave.

Christine grinned at his side and kissed his cheek. "Why don't you rest a bit? I'll go downstairs and get some food, pack our things, and then we'll be off." She gave him a look when he began to protest. "Erik, I won't even hear of you going back without something eaten. Please?"

"Very well," he huffed.

* * *

Madeleine had tried to go and see Erik but Christine would hear none of it. "He's resting now," was all she said as she took what Marie had prepared for an early dinner up to him, leaving the three downstairs.

"Was he alright?" Madeleine asked her friend. "I can't help but… feel a bit responsible."

"You are fickle!" Marie murmured. "And yes. A bit or a lot."

"What am I to do?" the elder woman sobbed dramatically.

Her friend placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let him live his life, Madeleine." Her eyes wandered to where Etienne was standing silently. "Do not interfere unless he gives you permission. And you… live yours. He's willing enough to allow it."

"Is he?"

"Would it matter?"

"It did! I was going to burn them all, Marie! The masks… I was going to be rid of them all!"

"And it was too late," the normally timid woman answered sharply. "Perhaps with that in mind, you will allow him to bow out once again from your grand performance. Heaven knows you don't deserve to have him with you as a son after all you've done to him."

"Whose side are you on, Marie?"

"No one's. I am simply telling you what any good friend should."

* * *

Neither Erik nor Christine returned downstairs that evening and Madeleine rose the next morning to find a note scribbled on a scrap of paper and two tickets sitting on the kitchen table. The tickets were passes to seats in the opera house for a season. Madeleine's eyes skimmed the note.

_Mother – _

_Forgive our hasty departure and our lack of appearance, but it was for the best. I have always had the most untamable of tempers when something strikes me as your Doctor Byre does. As my temper cools I come to realize the hypocrisy of it all. While I think certainly no kind thoughts of your Doctor Byre, I cannot think anything ill and still be of good conscious of my theory that no one can choose with whom or where they might find love. You'll have found the tickets by now, which I brought for you and your lovely friend Marie. If you wish me to, I will send along a third, though I'd ask you not bring him to my home. And as well I'd like to ask that you never return there either. Bar the direction from your memory at all costs. Yet you are welcome in my opera house._

_-Erik

* * *

_

"Do you think they'll come to Paris?" Christine asked quietly as she stroked Ayesha's long fur.

"Yes," her husband responded distantly, watching the passing land from his place inside the carriage.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He smiled at this. "And I you, my angel."

* * *

A/N: Well that's the last chapter. Next Thursday (May 13) I shall be going to Florida for a week and therefore will not be able to poke my nose into my computer. Terribly sorry. Anyway, I will endeavor to come up with a new story, though none has struck me as of yet. If anyone has any plot bunnies they'd like to throw at me, feel free. Though do try to avoid my head….

Migrating Coconuts 06: Haha! I'm going to have to agree with that! That's how I feel about a lot of people…

Lynx Ryder: Of course he'll be okay! I've only killed one of my favs off once… well, twice, but the second time I brought him back and it was the same character! So hmm…. Yeah… :hides that fic: I wouldn't kill Erik. He doesn't get off THAT easy!

I despise Raoul: What a lovely name! I wanted to thank you for your reviews! I actually do plan to write for a living, so that one complement really made me feel good! Thank you! Anyway, on to this review response! The only problem with cloning Erik is that he wouldn't be Erik…. So who's up for a little Phantom tug-o-war:evil giggle:

TS


End file.
